


You Have to Fall to Fly

by itisunreal



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: College AU, kind of ooc i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisunreal/pseuds/itisunreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College was not what he'd expected or wanted, but that didn't mean it could be a magical place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have to Fall to Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Based on that one tumblr post where the guy is playing 'My Heart Will Go On' on the piano in the middle of the night.

College had not been what he'd expected. He'd expected more fun, more parties, more friends. He hadn't thought all his free time would be filled with mounds of homework and self-loathing. But here he was. Three months in, cramming for a class he no longer cared for, for a final he was surely to fail in the morning. And all while having one friend, attending zero parties, and he didn't even remember what the word fun meant anymore.

He pops the window letting the chilly air. His room is too hot, he's been in here too long, and read the same paragraph eight times already. And is on the brink of losing what little sanity he has left.

It's a minute before his registers what he's hearing. The woman above him plays some kind of large stringed instrument, he knows, he's seen her lugging it up and down the stairs. His face scrunches in thought. It – it's a cello, right? No, yeah, that's what it has to be. He's heard it before, his brain is just a puddle of fudge right now.

The notes are deep and rich, and ring pleasantly in his ears. This song, he knows, it's – he scoots closer to the window to hear better. It's, he snaps his fingers, oh, it's the song from Titanic. He read something like this once, and excitement wells in his chest at the thought of having his own moment. He could do it. He can, all he needs to do is lean out the window.

Twenty seconds, his father had said once. Twenty second is all it takes. 

Twenty seconds of courage is all he needs. Twenty seconds is a lifetime. Can change a lifetime. He just has to be willing to fall.

And in this moment he is. He's ready to fall into this adventure, see where it leads.

Readying himself, he pushes the window the rest of the way open, and listens. The song is reaching it's crescendo, he's always kind of liked this part.

_Twenty seconds._

Leaning out, he looks up.

_That's all he needs._

Inhaling, he feels his chest expand, and plunges. Let's the current take him where it will.

“Rose?!” God, he hopes this ends well, and not just with someone telling him to shut the hell up. He knows it's well past midnight, but courage has the strangest timing.

The song ends abruptly, notes soured by a startled hand.

_Twenty seconds is all it takes._

He can imagine her standing, peering out her window from where her seat is, wondering if she actually heard that. There's a turning in his stomach that this will just be an embarrassing memory he doesn't speak of one day. He's almost ready to give up when he hears it. It's soft at first, almost like a whisper, then stronger.

“Jack? Jack?!”

The grin that finds his face can't be anything but goofy, and he calls back. Going to his door, he opens it, and waits, seeing if this is going to continue. And he so hopes it does.

There are multiple footsteps, and he realizes he's in over his head, that this is more than he bargained for, but it's too late to turn back. Far too late.

The door to the apartment above his opens, and she calls out again. He answers, and runs for the stairs on the right. This might end up being the best night of him life. 

Her calls get softer the further from his room he gets, and it stops him. Maybe this isn't going the way he thought it was. He shakes his head, no, it was going exactly like he thought. Opening the door to the stairwell, he takes them two at a time until he's a floor up, and nervous. So anxious. Wiping his sweaty hands on his pants, he's through the door, but no one's there. 

Walking further in, he sees her door open, and calls out again, a little dejected.

The reply comes from below him, and he smacks his forehead. Other door. He would just miss her.

He'll wait, he decides leaning against her door frame, he has nothing more pressing. 

Replying each time he hears her, his breath becomes heavier the closer she gets, and he's not quite sure what's happening to him. He's already done the hard part. The door opens, startling him, and he's back on both foot, hands fiddling with his pockets.

“Jack?"

She's approaching slowly when the door opens again, a stern woman with red in her hair and crossed arms follows through. And 'Rose' is turning back toward her, motioning something he can't see, but the other woman stops, then her dark eyes are back on him.

He's so nervous. He doesn't think he's ever really looked at her, but if he known she was so far out of his league, he probably would've thought again. But they're inches apart when she stops, and he's looking down, and she's looking up. Her chest heaves from exertion, and his is from, well, fear.

“Hi.”

She's the first to break the ice, and his throat is parched, but he croaks anyway. “Hi.”

They're staring again, and he's sure if he looks long enough he'll be lost. Her friend huffs, shifting back and forth on her feet. Impatient and done with this.

Holding out his hand, he introduces himself. “Phil.”

She takes his hand, and he can see the most ridiculously small smile. It's a good sign. Definitely a good sign. It's the only way he'll interpret it.

“Melinda.”

Rocking on the balls of his feet, his hands are in his pockets, and he clears his throat. _Twenty seconds. Just twenty more._ “Maybe we can go for coffee sometime.” Her friend scoffs, and he backtracks. “If you want, we don't have to. We could do something else, or nothing at all, it's up to you really...”

“Jesus, are you two done yet? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

He hadn't even heard a door open, but she's turning from him, one hand on his arm, keeping him in place.

“Go to bed, Blake. And Victoria, do not make me come back there.”

Her hand is warm, and her attention is back on him. Twenty seconds of courage was not enough, he thinks he might be sick.

“I don't-”

_Oh, god, here it comes._

“-like coffee, but if you'd like to do lunch, I'm free tomorrow.”

He feels warm. Thinks, maybe, he's blushing or dead, and that goofy grin is back. “I would love that. That-that would be great.”

She nods firmly once. “Good. Then tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

She's in her doorway now, her friend squeezing past her. She holds out her hand, and he takes it. “Jack.”

“Rose.” He doesn't know what compels him to do it, but he kisses the back of her hands, and when he looks back up, he could swear she was blushing, just a little. 

The door shuts, and he's punching the air, unable to contain himself any longer. He wants to take a victory lap around the dorm, banging on doors and hollering in joy, but settles for ending his study session for the night. He needs his rest after all, tomorrow's going to be life changing, he can feel it.


End file.
